


Steady Red Means Stop (Case-file #5) Part 3

by Geelady



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geelady/pseuds/Geelady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See chapter 1</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steady Red Means Stop (Case-file #5) Part 3

STEADY RED MEANS STOP (Case-file #5) Part 3  
Author: G. Waldo  
Rating: Case-fic’. Light angst. Light humour. Pairing: Jane/Cho Plus Jane/Lisbon friendship.  
Characters: Jane, Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, Karen Cross and Red John.  
Summary: Former attorney and now television reporter/host Karen Cross has a new show and imagine who her special interview-e is this week! Disclaimer: Not mine though I wish he was.

CBI

Jane could see his colleagues were tip-toeing around him, and speaking in tones more hushed than was habitual – Lisbon in particular. Her voice had lost that sharp edge that conveyed to all in range that she was in charge, instead taking on a touch of saccharine that did not sound like her at all.

Because of his public breakdown Lisbon had adopted the role of a tolerant friend rather than that of an annoyed boss who would normally be thinking up clever new words of reprimand when he arrived late once again. Instead she had smiled as though it was okay because he had been publically crying his eyes out just the day before.

Lisbon and every person in the building had either seen or heard about the Jane-Show but his boss wanted him to be okay and so everything else had to be okay, too. So she had smiled kindly then retreated to her office. It was a face that did not suit her. His tardiness should have garnered him at least one half-humorous bark from the tiny brunette.

But not today.

Jane hated the change. It meant they thought he had changed. True enough he had broken down on television but that stress had been all cried and showered out of him by late last night. Two pills and a fifth of Scotch and he’d slept like a baby.

As far as he was concerned it was business as usual. “Grace.” He asked, appearing at her desk with no warning and knocking her out of her concentration.

Van Pelt, almost jumping from her skin asked “Yes?” doing her best to smile without smiling, a forced, unnatural expression that had to be causing her muscle strain.

Jane sighed. “Do you think you could find a current address for a Doctor Bernard Vogel?”

“The medical examiner?”

Jane nodded and Grace entered the information into the CBI data-base. “Um, nothing here. There are a couple of other places I can try.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Jane knew she would go to Lisbon immediately the moment his back was turned, but that was to be expected. Grace was a loyal employee - to a fault - and she was a friend. Grace was worried about him.

She came up with one possibility and wrote it down for him. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that you know you should probably stay away from this guy - right?” The gorgeous red-head looked up at him with those big, honest eyes in a silent plea. It bothered her than he had been hurt though she was trying to hide it. Grace hid a lot of things and in that respect she was more like him than anyone. “Even though I know you’ll probably ignore that good advice and go anyway?”

“Questions you know the answer to you needn’t have asked.” Jane placed a chaste but soothing hand on her shoulder and said with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry.”

But she was not going to let him dissuade her from protocol so easily. As Jane walked by Cho’s desk on his way out she raised her voice so it would be heard just as far as Cho but no farther. “Cho,” She said. “Would you please go with Jane?”

Jane turned around to look at her in dismay and she stared back at him defiantly. “It’s this or I tell Lisbon right away.” She looked at her watch. “Oh look - it’s lunch time. I think I’ll try that new cafe about two blocks over.” Van Pelt said while sliding on a cooler weather jacket. “You’ve got an hour, Jane.”

Jane nodded, grateful for her little subterfuge. “Come on.” He said to Cho, who was looking at Van Pelt for some clarification on the shotgun duty she had just volunteered him for.

She mouthed the name silently. “Vogel.”

Following Jane around trying to prevent disasters was becoming routine. Cho sighed and stood up, gathering his coat, gun and badge. “I’ll try to keep his law-breaking down to misdemeanours.”

CBI

Doctor – retired – Bernard Vogel had them in for coffee. Cho was surprised that Jane refused the tea he would habitually ask for, but there was probably no beverage on the planet capable of blotting out what he had learned the previous morning.

Vogel, a man in his mid-fifties with a healthy shock of salt and pepper hair, had evidently taken an early retirement. “I bowl and travel a bit.” He explained, easing himself down into a padded chair. “But the years as an ME did a number on my feet, you see. Walking has become, as they say, a bitch. What can I do for you officers?”

“CBI Agents.” Cho reminded him, not bothering to clarify Jane’s consultant role.

Though both of Jane’s hands were resting on his knees, they were clenched into fists. His tension made the air in the room as thick as butter. Cho knew the blonde was ready to unravel at the seams but the mentalist still managed to wait until the coffee was served before asking Vogel “Why didn’t you file your addendum with the FBI? And why wait so long before adding it to your report?”

Vogel looked from one agent, the calm oriental one who actually looked like law-enforcement, to the other, a man whose vested suit more resembled something a motivational speaker might wear. “Um - er - which addendum is that? It doesn’t happen often but I did file a few over the years. And I-I thought you were here to discuss the Brown-Morris autopsy?”

Cho asked. “Was that your last job?”

“Um, no, but there was some question as to the cause of death, the investigating detective had concerns about the post-mortem bruising, but I assured him – “

“We’re not here to talk about that.” Jane interrupted. “We’re here to talk about Red John. Nine years ago you conducted an autopsy on a mother and daughter, the girl’s name was Charlotte Elizabeth Jane.”

“Oh, the Red John killings, yes, a most famous case...” Vogel stared at Jane for a few seconds, a light slowly dawning in his eyes. “But...Jane? But isn’t that-? Oh that is your na – er - oh, I see. I-I’m, I see, so - you’re...you were...the father?” His hand shook as he raised his coffee cup and took a drink.

“Am the father.” Jane corrected him. “I am her father. And here’s the thing – Red John never rapes his victims. Never. Not the females - never the females and certainly not a young girl – in fact not once in thirty-five murders has he ever raped or interfered with any of the bodies of his victims – not ever. So how could you have found semen on her clothes - on my daughter’s clothes? -You can’t have.”

Vogel didn’t know who to say his next words to. He decided to speak them to the one wearing the gun, the calm-looking fellow. “B-but, I’m sorry, Mister Jane, but I did find semen. It wasn’t much, it was smeared...” He chanced a quick look at the father of the dead girl whose eyes were those of a man in shock – who might get sick or faint. “In-into the fabric of her dress, transference after-the-fact perhaps but...”

Jane, the slightest tremor in a hushed voice, asked “Was there any...elsewhere? Did he...on her...inside?”

Vogel pressed his lips together against the very uncomfortable subject. Not uncomfortable within his own clinical setting, but in every way so when addressing the father of a dead girl who had once lain stiff and cold on his metal table. “No but...” Vogel was nervous. The father, sitting there with every appearance of calmness, in his eyes never-the-less looked as though he might attack something or someone.

“But what?” Jane asked sharply.

“He - the killer...” He cleared his throat and took off his glasses, cleaning them with a corner of his shirt. “I’m sorry, Mister Jane, I really am, but he had washed her you see...after. There may have once been traces but I could find no seminal evidence inside her. I am very sorry.”

Jane stared at the coffee table, processing what he had heard but could not believe.

“I am truly very sorry, Mister Jane, I-I wish I had something more concrete for you but the killer...the intimate parts of your daughter’s body had been washed. There was nothing to find.”

Jane nodded.

“These cases - sometimes that is the way they go. It is unfortunate.” Vogel said, scratching his nose, his eyes looking away. “She was, if I recall, a beautiful girl.”

Jane stared at Vogel. “You’re lying.” Jane said. “You just told me a lie.”

Now the man in the vest did sound and look angry and Vogel looked to the calm one for help. “I have told you everything, now I think - I think it’s time for you to go.” He stood up and went to the door of his apartment, opening it for them. “Please, Mister Cho. I don’t know why you’re man here thinks I’m lying but I have answered your questions and this is too much now, please just go.”

Jane was not to be put out prematurely. “What are you hiding Vogel? Trust me, I know liars and I know you’re lying about something.”

Vogel shook his head, frustrated and a little frightened of the angry-eyed CBI man. “Go, gentlemen or I will call the police.”

“I am the police.” Cho said but he took Jane’s arm and pushed him toward the door. “Thank you, doctor.”

Once in the hall, Jane shook off Cho’s strong armed grip. “What the hell are you doing? He’s lying.”

“Why?” Cho challenged. “Because you say so? You’re going to need a little thing called proof, Jane.”

Jane dismissed such conventional ideas. “Simple, we go back in and I hypnotise him.”

“I doubt he’d sit for you.” Cho walked away with his keys in his hand, pleased that Jane was following him, the blonde conceding, at least for now, that Vogel was probably not going to cooperate.

CBI

Once in the SUV and driving back toward CBI, Jane’s phone rang. He looked at the call display. “Uh oh.’ He said, “Lisbon.”

“Just answer it.”

“Hi Lisbon.” Jane said.

“Where are you two? And don’t say you’re at lunch. Van Pelt is a lousy liar.”

“We’re having violent sex in the car.” Jane said, looking to Cho to see if it got a rise out of his stoic friend and lover.

Cho just rolled his eyes.

Ignoring Jane’s attempt at levity - “Well, get back here now.” Lisbon barked at him. “We have a situation.” She hung up.

Jane put his phone away. “She sounds ominous. No quickie in the back seat I guess.”

 

CBI

Lisbon met them in the hallway outside her office.

Jane said “Now what was so important that Cho and I had to put our clothes back o-?”

“-Shut up.” Lisbon said. “Come on.”

She led them to her office. Inside Karen Cross sat a few feet away from the man Jane recognised as Jerry, the producer of Cross-Hairs.

Lisbon left for a moment and then returned with Van Pelt carrying her lap-top. Rigsby was the last to enter. When everyone was present and accounted for “Van Pelt.” Lisbon said “Play it.”

While Van Pelt took a few seconds to find the file Lisbon explained. “For any of you who don’t know, this is Mister Jerry Schenn. He received a call approximately one hour ago at the studio. The caller claims to be Red John.”

Jerry said to Lisbon, pathetic hope in his words. “Maybe it isn’t Red John? Maybe it’s a crank caller? We get them all the time, that’s why both sides of every call that comes in to the studio are automatically recorded.”

Jane, his suspicions of Vogel momentarily forgotten, leaned his back against the wall and Cho took up a seat nearest the door. “I’ll know.” Jane said, looking at the distressed Jerry, understanding the man’s anguish all too well. “If it’s Red John, I’ll know.”

Van Pelt said. “Okay, here we go.”

When the voice spoke Jane could swear it physically crawled over his skin, leaving a trail of putrescence in its wake.

“Jerry. This is Red John. I have your lovely Allison. There’s something I want you to do for me, Jerry, I want you to bring Patrick back on the show. Karen has said some vile things about me, Jerry, and I feel I should answer her and all her curious viewers. Do this and Allison will live. Do not and I will cut her open like I did Angela, the little Charlotte and so many others.”

In the room, Jerry Schenn put his head in his hands as he listened to the recorded conversation for the tenth time.

“Who the hell is this? Martin – if this is some kind of sick joke...”

“This is no joke, Jerry. Just check with Allison’s school and you’ll see.”

“What do you want?”

“I’ve already explained it, Jerry. Bring Patrick back on the show tomorrow or your pretty daughter dies. It’s very simple really.”

“Y-yes, um, look, who-ever you are, please don’t hurt my daughter. She’s a good gi-”

“Begging is undignified, Jerry. Patrick never begged, even when I burned my art into his smooth skin. He was very brave. Just do as I say, Jerry, and Allison will be unharmed. We will speak again on Cross-Hairs tomorrow at the usual time. Do not disappoint me, Jerry, or little Allison will die in a pool of her own blood.”

“Y—yes, we will, I mean I will. Can I speak to her? I want to speak to her.”

“Tomorrow, Jerry. Now remember to call Patrick and invite him along. I know he wouldn’t want to miss it.”

The call ended and Jane swallowed, the hated voice, every nuance and pitch, the rise and fall of the backdrop nasal, all of it...there was no mistake. With Red John’s voice came unbidden the sour stench of Red John’s breath and the loathsome feel of the killer’s invasive hands going places they had no right to go. Jane stepped away from the wall and walked to the other side of the room, needing to get away from the memories that had suddenly become physical, making his skin crawl.

“It’s him.” Jane said. “It’s Red John.”

CBI

Karen Cross had a different opinion about what they should do with the threats. “This is my show and I will not let some freak dictate what to do with it.” She insisted, looking at her producer with more pity than sympathy. “Jerry, we have no idea if he really has Allison-“

Jane snorted. “He has her, Karen. Even a two-bit investigator like you ought to recognise how serious he is.”

For the moment Karen ignored Jane. “If he even has Allison...look Jerry, I don’t mean to be cruel, but if he has her, he might kill her anyway no matter what we do.” She looked to Lisbon and the other members of law enforcement in the room to back up her theory. “Am I right? Since when does Red John kidnap people and let them go?”

“Since me.” Jane reminded her while flashing a look at Lisbon. “Twice.”

“Well, I think –“ Cross began.

Jerry raised his face from his hands. “Nobody cares what you think, Karen.” He said. Large unshed tears nestled in his eyes. “What you’re going to do, Karen, is put Mister Jane back on your show tomorrow. We’re going to do whatever it is that freak wants. I will not have my daughter killed by a fucking psycho because of you, you camera-humping bitch.”

“Hey.” Lisbon said. “Calm down Mister Schenn, we’ll do whatever is necessary to save your daughter.”

His eyes disbelieved. “How?? You don’t even know where she is.”

“Where was she supposed to be?” Jane asked.

“At school, Sac’ Central high. After the call came in, I phoned the school - she never showed.” Jerry looked over at Jane, the man everyone insisted knew all about the serial killer. “Do you think he’ll really kill her, I mean even if we put you on the show?”

Jane tilted his head a little back and forth, thinking. “He’s broken his pattern lately, um, the most I can give you is a maybe but if you want me to be completely honest - no. I think he’ll kill her anyway.”

“See?” Karen said.

“I wasn’t agreeing with you, Karen.” Jane was quick to point out. “I‘ll go on the damn show, all the good it’s likely to do.”

Lisbon stood and walked to her door, touching Jane’s arm on her way by. “Can I talk to you in the hall?”

“Uh, weird time for it but okay, sure.” Jane let her lead him from the room.

Lisbon closed the door behind her. “Why are you stomping all over that man’s hope? You for one should understand what’s he’s going through.”

“Sure I do but you want me to lie? Red John’s a killer.”

“A girl’s life is at stake.”

“Someone’s life somewhere is always at stake, that’s the nature of the planet.”

“But you can do something about this one.”

“Yes, Lisbon, I can try, but her life is in Red John’s hands. Just because he let me go doesn’t mean he’ll let the girl go. He’d love nothing better than to torture her father with hope and then kill her for dessert.”

Lisbon stared at him like he was someone else, and not the man she had known and worked with for four years. “Are you saying you refuse to go on the show?”

“No, I’m saying I don’t care about Jerry or his daughter and even less about Karen.” Jane answered plainly. “But I will go on the show because it gives us a chance to catch Red John. The only way Red John can talk to us is via the phone calls he’ll have to make which means we might be able to trace where they’re coming from. I assume your tech-heads will take care of that?”

“Yes.” Lisbon said, searching his eyes to see if she could spot anything he might be hiding, suspecting Jane’s breakdown on live television must have affected him more than he let on. She had heard him be callous before though usually it was an attitude he reserved for killers, thieves, liars, cheating wives and husbands – never an innocent man and his even more innocent daughter. “Are you all right? I mean on the Cross show – “

“I’m fine.” He assured her before she could dig any deeper. “Let the record show I am doing this to catch Red John and to keep Cho, and you of course, happy. You both regard me too highly I might add.”

Lisbon was quick to counter Jane’s attempt at what she saw as self depreciation. “No, I don’t think so. You’re a good man, Jane. I believed that when you were hired and I still do – even if you don’t.”

CBI

 

This time Lisbon Cho and Jane were on hand to personally watch the show from inside the studio. In a room nearby that had been vacated for the necessary equipment, the tech’s had set up to trace whatever calls came in from Red John, assuming he actually followed through, with live feeds nestled inside Lisbon and Cho’s ears.

“Are we ready?” Lisbon asked through the tiny microphone at her collar. When she got an affirmative from the tech room she nodded to Cho. “Here we go.”

Jane was already seated back in the spot light with a nervous Karen at his side. She had made notes, the contents of which Jane could only guess at since this show’s entire agenda was in Red John’s hands and as far as they knew he was ad-libbing the whole thing.

Karen Cross muttered. “You think the ratings on my last show were something to see? This will take me multi-national.”

Jane stared at the camera this time, willing the damn thing to begin. “Be careful what you ask for.” He said to her.

The music cued and Karen Cross looked into the camera. Gone was her pasted smile though her undercurrent of smug self-assuredness was still present. “This is Karen Cross – Welcome to Cross-Hairs. Today we have back our special guest, Patrick Jane, and another very special guest – one that will surely make television history – on Cross-Hairs. Red John will be joining us.

“For those of you who don’t know Red John is a serial killer – you heard me right - a serial killer who has been active for close to fifteen years and is still at large. In case you are tuning in for the first time, Red John was also the man who nine years ago murdered Patrick Jane’s family. Patrick Jane is a consultant who, along with his colleagues at the California Bureau of Investigation, has been hunting Red John ever since – though so far unsuccessfully.”

Karen turned to Jane. “While we’re waiting for Red John to call, Patrick, why don’t you bring us up-to-date on the Red John case as it stands? Now I know in the past you have made a point not to talk about Red John on television and considering what happened to your family, that is understandable, but Red John himself has asked you to be here. It seems clear that he wants you to talk about him. Any thoughts on why he has called you here today?”

“My belief is he wants to speak to you, Karen.” He had a hunch. Karen had brought up the rape thing and Red John was probably displeased about that, though Jane doubted if Red John would let him off the hook today either.

“Me? Why me? I said nothing but the truth about Red John; he has no reason to attack me in any way.”

“It’s dangerous to think you know what’s in his mind. I’ve been studying him for years and even I don’t always know why he does the things he does.”

“You mean like your abduction? Tell us what happened.”

It was dangerous territory but the truth is the only thing Red John would respect, if a serial killer can respect anything. “He threatened to kill my colleague – he kidnapped Teresa Lisbon, my boss, and used her to get to me. So I went, hoping it would save her life.”

“And what happened?”

“He kept his word. He didn’t kill her.”

“Odd, though, that you’re still alive after all these years. Can you speculate on why he did not kill you instead of your family?”

“He killed my family to punish me. Killing me wouldn’t have driven his point home because the dead don’t feel sorry.” This next bit was mostly unknown territory. “As for why he has not killed me since then I-I’m not sure. He said –“

“Yes?” Karen asked; her voice of sympathy was silicone smooth, total artifice.

“He said he loves me. Now I am assuming he means loves to play mind games because it is my belief that there is no love in him. And why he would claim to love someone he has been stalking and hurting for years I don’t know but those were the words he used. Make of them what you will.”

“Have you ever seen Red John?”

“Yes. I saw him once although that was several months ago. By now I’m sure he’s changed his hair colour and possibly even had some surgery. He’s not a stupid man and by no means an ineffectual adversary in any way. Red John has eluded the FBI, the CBI and every law-enforcement agency across the western US for fifteen years. That tells me that he’s smarter than we are.”

Jane took a deep breath. The line of questioning was making him ill with worry. He hoped that while not straying from the truth and his personal perceptions on the matter, that he had bolstered Red John’s ego enough to prevent any knee-jerk reactions from the killer – like slaughtering Allison Schenn for instance.

“What was his reason for scarring you?”

“I’m not certain but maybe to prove to me that despite our efforts to catch him, he was still free to do as he liked. And perhaps to remind me that...maybe....I’m not sure but maybe he thinks of me as his...property.” The last three syllables were spit from his mouth like three tiny bullets striking the air. It was essentially what Red John believed – he had said as much when his killer arms had drawn Jane into his killer’s embrace and buried his killer’s mouth in his hair.

Jane felt the man’s touch even now and it turned his stomach over. He felt faint. This was not working. Why had he agreed to this?

“Do you think he’ll call?” Karen asked.

Jane swallowed the bile in his throat. “I don’t know.”

Even Karen’s face looked alarmed when Jane suddenly turned white and sat forward.

“I need a break please.” He whispered. “I’m going to be sick.”

Karen signalled for the assistant producer to go to commercial. Jane walked swiftly off the set and only made it to the hallway outside the men’s room before he doubled over. He didn’t vomit because there was nothing in his stomach, but he felt dizzy with nausea and stood there, bent double and gasping for air until he felt a hand on his back.

It was Lisbon. “Hey. You okay?”

Jane nodded, though his stomach was still churning up bile.

“You were right.” She said. “And this was a bad idea. Red John hasn’t called anyway. Looks as though he’s backed out.”

Despite himself, Jane shook his head emphatically. “He’ll call. He’ll call, Teresa. There’s no way he would have set this in motion and not follow through.”

Lisbon wanted to ask him things, so many things that she had no right to. About Jane’s time spent with Red John, particularly during his second abduction, where Jane had come home bloody and dazed. Jane had said little in the hospital or afterward and the doctors has advised her not to push him. A man with a mental breakdown in his past can all too easily go there again.

What might he have said to the company shrink, she wondered? What does one say about the killer who ruins your life and then claims to love you? Where do you go with that afterward?

She rubbed his back, hoping it might ease his nausea. “Are you sure you can do this?”

Jane straightened up. He was bleach-white but at least he wasn’t green. “If we want to save that girl’s life, I don’t see that we have a choice.” Jane looked down at his boss. She was worried about him and he was grateful for that. “I didn’t mean what I said before. I just...” He looked around at the hated venue. “Don’t want to be here.” Here before cameras and people, his inner most sufferings naked to millions of strangers, his past being publically sifted over and over, and all of it taking him apart bit by bit.

“I know.” The music cued. “Come on; let’s get this insanity over with.”

Jane returned to his spot beside Karen who in the interim had located her humanity enough to order him a cup of stomach-settling ginger tea. Jane drank down half of it almost at once.

“Better?” She asked, not realising that the camera was rolling. When she did, she turned to it and cleared her throat. “If you’re just tuning in, we’re still waiting for Red John’s call, the serial killer who told us he would be phoning into the show today to speak to Patrick Jane. Patrick Jan-“

Off-camera her assistant producer said into his microphone linked directly to Karen’s ear “We have a call.”

Karen stopped mid-sentence and looked at Jane. “We have a call.”

Jane swallowed, trying to sit still. For as long as he had hunted this man suddenly he found himself not wanting to speak to him. Because here Red John was in control, once again leaving Jane with no way to prepare his defence and no way to see his enemy to read the lies on his face. This could all end well or very, very badly, much of it no doubt depending on how he himself responded.

“I’m here, Karen. Hello Patrick. Very nice to see you again. I’m sorry that your stomach is upset – you always did have a bit of a delicate constitution. Perhaps you should finish your tea?”

At the voice a hundred painful images flooded into Jane’s mind, starting with his dead daughter and dead wife and moving forward to Greenlawn and Sophie Miller and her soothing voice and possible interfering hands that he could not remember, and seeing Lisbon tied up, helpless to do anything about it. Feeling the demon burn of Red John’s brand on his untouched flesh, and the after-burn of having been raped, a reality that he knew Lisbon believed he had no knowledge of. Difficult to misinterpret the pain that sort of specific physical violation leaves behind. And then the fire at Grace’s apartment that might have killed her and the dead accusing eyes of the cleaning lady in his hotel room, and now here he was sitting once more where he swore he’d never be again. He was tired of the fight. He was tired of Red John and his games. He was so very tired of it all.

Jane, hating that he should have to drink just to keep the murderous son-of-a-bitch happy, took up his cup and swallowed the remainder. It was cold.

“Karen.” Red John said. “I know you think I am here to speak to Patrick but I am really calling to talk to both of you.”

Karen Cross’s heart rate doubled at the mention of her name. Her hands were clasped in her lap and steeled with tension. Nothing like hearing your own name fall from a killer’s lips as though he knew you personally to inject some healthy fear into your soul.

“Yes?” She said, years of experience keeping her voice cool. “What did you want to ask me?”

They exploded instantly, his words striking hard on everyone’s eardrums with no warning or hint as to their nature. “I want to know why you are whoring after my Patrick.”

Karen Cross did a bit of a double-take. Possibly a first. “What? I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understa-“

Red John’s voice boomed out across TV land cutting off her denial. “DON’T LIE TO ME! You were seen, you roaming slut.”

Jane watched Karen Cross swallow hard, for once at a loss for words. No, she would not have guessed this. She would not have had ready a smarmy answer for this sort of question and from this sort of guest.

“I-I’m not sure what you want me to say. I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“By telling me the truth I already know. However I want to hear you say it. You like Patrick, don’t you?”

Jane could see the out-and-out lie she was going to say crushed beneath her mounting uncertainty. Fear had its foothold.

“I, yes, well...we are colleagues, in a way. Our relationship is one of mutual respect, we –“

“LYING BITCH!” Red John screamed. And then the whole studio and the audience of millions heard another scream. “Do you hear that, Karen? That is the sound of fear. Allison has a very pretty throat and I will cut her head off and mail it to you in a box if you lie to me even one more time. I dare you, Karen. I double-dare you.”

Karen’s hand flew to her mouth. “No, please don’t. I’ll tell you the truth. P-please don’t hurt her.”

“Then SAY it.” Red John instructed.

Jane took a deep breath. He had a few more years with Red John in his life than poor Karen and when it came to torture the killer was methodical. No heart-stone unturned. No serenity left intact.

In another room, Jerry Schenn wept in his hands as Lisbon’s tech’s desperately tried to trace where the call was coming from. Outside Cho and Rigsby stood by in a vehicle prepared to follow the trace back to an address.

On the stage, Karen Cross tried to gather her wits. “Um, yes, I like Patrick, liked him. More than just as a colleague.”

“Yes, more...” Red John said his tone decorated with a leer. “Much more. You are infatuated with him, aren’t you?”

Jane could tell Karen was contemplating the crossroads with which Red John was confronting her. Tell the truth and look like a slut in front of all her fans or tell a lie and risk being the one who in all but fact slits an innocent girl’s throat?

“Yes. I find him attractive. So what?”

“How long have you been having fantasies about Patrick, Karen? How many secret scenarios have you indulged that got you dripping deep in your womanhood? And remember I will know if you are lying to me. I watch Patrick all the time you see.”

Karen stole a glance to her right where Jane was rubbing the pain from between his eyes, perhaps a thought sparking in her own mind that being in the hot seat was a decidedly uncomfortable chair; one she had not experienced before today.

She mouthed something to him and Jane thought it might have been I’m sorry. Little good it did now.

Karen screwed up her courage. “Patrick is an attractive man. Many women, probably even the ones he works with, I imagine have had such thoughts. I don’t see why it matters.”

“But not many women like you, Karen. Patrick rejected you, didn’t he, several times. His taste in lovers run to a more sophisticated and cultural level than the likes of you. Why I bet even now you’re angry with him for sending you on your way without so much as a peck on the cheek. Yes, Patrick said no and no and no again to your unspoken lusts of squatting on him and squeezing his cock to your slut’s delight. Am I right, Karen? Remember a girl’s life hangs in the balance. Am I right?”

Karen drew herself up.”I was interested, yes.”

“Sexually. You wanted him sexually. You wanted to put your dirty lawyer hands on him. Why just the thought of those beautiful tragic eyes looking back at you in carnal exchanges made you keep going back again and again, trying to win him over.”

Karen ran shaking fingers through her hair. “Uh – yes, I suppose so.”

“But Patrick said no each and every time because he despises you and loathes everything you stand for.”

“What the hell does it matter?” She asked boldly. “I found him attractive – like I said. So what?”

“You wanted to fuck him. Say it, Karen. Admit that you wanted to fuck him relentlessly. Say it in front of all of your admiring viewers!”

Even bolder - “Can we move on now?” She suggested.

“SAY IT SLUT OR THE GIRL DIES!” In the background another scream filled the speakers.

Karen jumped out of her skin. “No, please don’t hurt her.” Karen pleaded. “She hasn’t done anything. This-this is insane.”

Jane could have told her that from the beginning. They were dealing with a mad man after all.

Karen asked the crazy man on the other end of the line. “What is the point of trying to humiliate me?”

“Because you spoke lies about me, Karen, and if there is one thing I cannot tolerate, it is a liar. Many men have been harmed by the lies people tell.”

“Many? But you’re talking about Charlotte Jane? I told the truth as I knew it; as the evidence revealed itself.”

“But lies never-the-less. Now say it...”

Karen swallowed, her hand going to her throat. It was shaking. “Yes, I wanted to fuck him. Now why does it matter?”

Red John’s voice was suddenly softer, gentler. “I don’t like it when someone hurts Patrick. It is...disquieting.”

“You mean someone besides you. It seems obvious to me that you’ve hurt him more than anyone.”

“In a coming day he will understand. Thank you, Karen, for being so honest with your viewers.”

Karen was pale and shaky but it appeared that her trial was over.

Jane looked into the camera where, from somewhere he was sure, Red John looked back. “I’d like to ask something of you.”

Almost sweetness itself, “Yes Patrick?”

It was abhorrent to be asking Red John for a favour. But Jane kept the image of the girl Allison Schenn in his mind to force it passed his lips. “I’d like an hour break to check into the allegations Karen made regarding ...my daughter and what Vogel said you did to h-her.”

“That would please me, Patrick. I will return in one hour. Until then...”

When the lights went off, for a moment not a sound could be heard anywhere in the studio floor. Then Jane stood up and walked off the set, the soles of his shoes the only rhythm other than Karen’s racing heart.

He entered the room where the technicians were set up. “Tell me you found something.” He said to Lisbon. “Tell me this wasn’t all for nothing.”

“I sent Cho and Rigsby out to a location. They found an active cell-phone lying out in the open. The call was being routed there from a computer, and then sent here. They’re trying to nail down the computer or at least the server.”

“He’ll use a different computer and cell phone the next time he calls.” Jane pointed out.

Lisbon nodded. “I know.” As Jane had often reminded them over the years, Red John was not stupid. “But there is nothing else to try.”

“I need a ride to Vogel’s apartment.”

Lisbon nodded, removing her ear phone and leaving the technical side of things in the hands of the experts. “I’ll drive.”

CBI

Vogel did not welcome him back but with one flash of Lisbon’s badge he stepped aside.

Jane did not wait for any pleasantries. “I know you lied and you’re going to tell me.”

Vogel, his nose shining, shook his head. “I don’t know what lies you’re talking about, Mister Jane.” His breath smelled like bourbon.

But Vogel led them to his living room where his computer screen glowed. Vogel swiftly switched it off. Jane caught a flash of a photo of a young girl. Daughter? Vogel had no kids.

Jane sat down opposite Vogel and leaned forward, sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Mister Vogel I am going to appeal to your sense of honour.”

Lisbon looked sharply at Jane. He was speaking in a voice that she had heard before. Once before, at her own apartment. “Jane...” It was a warning.

Jane turned to her and whispered fiercely. “You want that girl to die? Then let me do what I need to.”

Jane turned back to a confused Vogel and continued. “Mister Vogel, I don’t know if you’ve heard about me but I am trained in hypnosis. Now I assure you I am not going to try and hypnotise you, because you are far too tense for that and people cannot be hypnotised against their will. You are tense, aren’t you, Doctor Vogel? I can see in your shoulders. That must be very painful.”

Vogel rubbed his right shoulder with his left hand. “Well, now that you mention it, I have been stiff lately. It could be tension I suppose.”

Jane looked steadily into Vogel’s eyes, his own lids never blinking once. Lisbon had been surprised the first time she’d seen Jane hypnotise someone, his eyes had never closed or blinked the entire time. Jane’s explanation had been simple. Blinking was distracting.

“Yes, I can see the tension, Doctor. The least I can do is help you with that, and then we’ll leave. In fact we’ll both leave you as soon as I’ve helped you with your tension. How does that sound? Now concentrate on my voice. It’s all in the way you approach it. The tension is moving, Doctor Vogel, it’s beginning to leave you. Soon, you will be free of it. The pain is shifting its hold on your muscles and sinews now. It’s like water, seeping out and trickling down. The pain is moving faster now, it’s no longer in your shoulders but is flowing down your arms, cascading down your arms to your feet like a waterfall, soothing and cool and wonderful on your skin, making it impossible for you to feel anything but relaxation and rest. The pain is going...going...going...the pain is gone now. You feel relaxed and wonderful. Like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.”

Vogel’s eyes had closed and he was sitting very still. “Yes.” He said, surprised. “Yes, I feel much better. I’m glad that Mister Jane has left.”

“Yes, we are all glad he is gone. Doctor Vogel. I need to ask you something.”

Vogel shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“Whose semen was on Charlotte Jane’s clothing? We both know it wasn’t Red John’s. Whose was it?”

“Charlotte was so beautiful.” Vogel said with a sigh.

“Yes.” Jane agreed. “Yes, but we need to talk about the semen you found on her dress. Whose semen was it? Don’t worry, Jane’s not here to listen to us.”

Vogel muttered, his head swaying a little, as though he was looking at something behind closed eyes. “Lying there so small, so sweet, so pretty, so terribly, tragically vulnerable...”

Jane stared at Vogel, his face in shock with the dawning of the truth. Lisbon closed her eyes, preparing herself. “Oh my god...” She whispered.

But Jane was nothing if not the best at what he did and he managed to not clasp his hands around the old man’s throat while he asked the next question in the same calm, soothing voice as before. Only Lisbon saw the fury in the gray-green eyes that would be erupting soon enough. “Was it your semen, Doctor? You can be honest, we’re all friends here, and remember - no one will ever find out.”

“She was so sexy, lying there in her own blood with that torn dress. I can’t help it if they bring me pretty ones. Poor little innocent baby girl...” He said, his voice lower, his face flushed, his countenance changed. He was aroused.

Jane knew and so did Lisbon. The day was turning into a horror story. “It was your semen, wasn’t it Doctor Vogel?” Jane asked again, his voice just starting to break free from the hypnosis-required strict composure in which he had confined it. “It was yours?”

“Oh, yes, but I washed her afterward you know, and flushed her out, except I got some on her dress by accident. Couldn’t get the stain out...it was clumsy of me. But she was just so pretty...”

Jane tapped Vogel’s boney knee twice and Vogel’s head suddenly dropped to his chest, and then he snapped awake and stared across the short space of carpet between them. “I feel much better, Mister Jane, thank you. Um – er...” A puzzled Vogel looked back and forth between Jane and Lisbon. “...weren’t you leaving?”

“Yes, old man.” Jane said, “We’re leaving.”

Before Jane could twitch a muscle to raise a hand to the stomach-turning necrophilia-tic pedophile sitting across from him, Lisbon grabbed his arm and whispered into his outraged ear. “Later, Jane, later we can address this but we have to get back. We’re out of time, we have to go now.”

Jane said nothing as Lisbon led him from the apartment. On the short walk to the car Lisbon underlined it for him. “I know you want to go back in there and bash his skull in and I’m with you on that but you’re going to have to wait. Allison Schenn’s life - just keep that in your head for now. Okay? Jane? Are you listening to me?”

Jane got in, slamming the car door so hard Lisbon thought the rivets were going to pop. “Yes. Just drive.”

CBI

Part 4 soon 


End file.
